Writing “poetic” lines using the words :
drink, drop, sardines, needed, letters, terrible, life, finished, mentioned, twelve, call, oranges

No poems will be written in the execution of this exercise (for now)!


She stands apart, a lovely drink of water to satisfy his lustful thirst.

Tears drop as seeds of emotion, sprouting sadness.

Tightly clenched they wrestled; sardines had more leeway!

He was the final piece of the puzzle; what she needed to feel whole!

Stacks of unopened letters toppled in a cascade of despair.

Through to the age of nine, Billy embraced his “terrible twos”!

The gift of life had been returned slightly used.

She had had enough: she was done – Ellie finally finished her green beans.

“I don’t recall that anyone had mentioned dementia” Caroline repeated for the third time!

She had the right to complain until twelve o’clock, her “bitching hour”.

Becky beckoned; Carl would call but, Walt would wail worriedly.

Absent mindlessly she chided, “You’re comparing lug-nuts and oranges!”


(C) Wallter J Wojtanik, 2014


Written for Miz Quickly’s Impromptu Warm Up


A pleasant ditty,
a melody too pretty
for a title so weird.
You’ve heard it as a jingle,
a little thing to shill
for that Alka-Seltzer® pill.
Round, curvy, slightly swervey,
you’ve guessed it, when your
digestive tract acts up.
Turn the music up;
no matter what shape
your stomach is in!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

Famous Alka-Seltzer "No Matter What Shape" TV Commercial ...Here it is!

 Written for Miz Quickly’s Impromptu – Shapes



Looking for the words – apropos, absurd;
unheard in the realm of what others say.
Trying to say things in a brand new way
that hasn’t been expressed as yet.
I get caught up in semantics, a frantic
search for a perplexing lexicon. I’m on
edge and hedge every bet where words are concerned.
I’ve yearned for moments like these, so please
forgive my manic meandering and my Houdini-esque
escape act. It is a fact, I am more random
than my fan-dom would like. Find me where you can.
I’ll be the poetic man with the out-turned pockets.
My words were once good. Will rhyme for food!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014


As a boy, fearless.
I’d hear this voice in my head
that said “nothing can hurt you”!
In the deepest, dankest, darkest
corner under the porch, I felt safest.
Hiding atop of the refrigerator,
finding refuge in the highest branch
of the tallest tree – that was me.
Somewhere along the way
I heard relatives say of how
my grandfather fell from a ladder.
From coma to death in days.
I was a bit swayed but I still stayed
brave, yet vigilant, resilient and sure.
Another grandfather in his eighties
ever the supervisor, also fell from a riser
pitched against the house. Watching his descent
without a means to save him
gave me anxiety I hold to this day.
On a ladder, my knees buckle
and I start to sway, not a way
a builder wracked with guilt
should be. I wish I weren’t afraid of heights.
I might have reached my peak much sooner!
I’m no swooner (when on solid ground.)

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014



Your journey has ended,
by your hand and much too soon.
You, the buffoon, the clown, the genius
bringing joy to the world.
But, for what it’s worth, who gave you mirth?
Your torment was an illness,
your illness was your privacy.
In the shadows of a mind so sharp,
that spark of madness run amok.
You had been stuck for a while
and the smile you wore tore your heart
to shreds. We laughed at your brand,
and demanded more of you
but, you had given enough.
It is tough that you didn’t save
some for yourself. We took you
seriously when your dramatics
gripped us. It ripped us as well,
your living hell of which you would tell,
of powders and pills and rivulets
of distilled potions, notions of answers
left un-questioned; too many to mention.
You’ve gone back to the egg.
You have been silenced like Ellen James.
Long did you stand as the grown-up Pan.
You have sucked the marrow out of this life.
There is no Doubt (the) fire has gone out.
It makes us want to shout,
Oh Captain, My Captain!
Thank you for your gift,
we’ve enjoyed it while it lasted.
And in our hearts you will live within a smile.
What dreams may come, you will greet us.
You will meet us with a joke in tow.
We know your journey has ended.
The Genie has been freed.
The Buffoon. The Clown.
The Genius indeed. Oh, Captain,
Bon Voyage!

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2014



“I’ve got to wake him up!
He’s not waking up!
The man’s dead to the world!

Are you even trying?
He’s buying snoozes
nine minutes at a time.

If you’re so good,
you bring him to life.
The timer is set. Three, two, one… BREW!

Does he smell it?
He can’t smell it.
He can’t smell anything.

Why are you so… alarming?coffee
You were once charming,
but you’re even getting on my nerves.

Wait. He’s starting to stir.
Yes sir, one more whine of mine
and he’s good to go…

Oh no! He slapped you silly!
You’re not getting up from that!
Rise and meet your maker! Steady.

Coffee is ready!”

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014